


Drifting Along Together

by sigh_no_more



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:51:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigh_no_more/pseuds/sigh_no_more
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Joly whimpered. "It's happening."<br/>"Hi guys," Enjorlas said, feeling slightly awkward.</p><p>From Tumblr prompt: Everyone thinks we came to the party as a couple because our costumes match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drifting Along Together

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr user asexual-combeferre asked: "Everyone thinks we came to the party as a couple because our costumes match".

"Oh my God," Joly was clutching Bossuet's arm so hard that it must hurt. Bossuet hardly seemed to mind, because he was grinning from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas. Maybe that was the wrong metaphor to use, since it was Halloween. Bossuet was grinning ear to ear like the trick-or-treaters Enjolras had passed on his way in.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Joly whimpered. "It's happening."

"Hi guys," Enjorlas said, feeling slightly awkward.

Bossuet shushed Joly, rubbing small circles soothingly on his back. Enjolras needed to find someone else to talk to, because this was weird. Just as he turned, he heard Bossuet call out, "Nice costume."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. Was that what this was about? If so, his friends were making a big deal about a costume he had spent maybe 5 minutes and $20 on. True, he had a tendency to dress as historical figures whenever costumes were required. So much so that Courfeyrac had called him out on it.

"Here is in invitation to my Halloween party. Costumes are mandatory, and you," he squinted at Enjolras to emphasize the importance of his instructions. "Cannot wear anything vaguely historical."

"But-"

"No."

"What if-"

"No." Courfeyrac paused. "And no fantasy costumes either."

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Nope. I don't trust you to dress up like some French revolutionary and try to pass it off as a Game of Thrones character."

Enjolras had sputtered at that, because the time periods were completely different, and he would never do that because he didn't want to get into another debate about anachronisms with Combeferre. Not again. Not after last time.

"Do not dress up like some dead historical figure, or anything that could be mistaken for a dead historical figure," Courfeyrac said sternly.

Despite the fact Enjolras usually didn't care about Halloween, it was almost physically impossible for Enjolras to be told what he could and could not wear and not rebel in some way. Even if the person telling him was one of his dearest friends. And even if it was for a costume he didn't care about. So he decided since he couldn't dress up in anything even remotely historical, he would do the opposite, and dress like he was from the future. A revolutionary from the future.

And so Enjolras found himself at Courfeyrac and Marius's apartment, wearing something he thought might be a knock-off  _Star Wars_ costume. It had been a generic white space pilot looking suit that he had grabbed at random. It had fit his basic requirements: it looked futuristic, it was cheap, and it was easily customizable. After arming himself with some cheap paint, he had transformed the plain white suit into a mostly red looking suit that looked befitting of a post-apocalyptic future. The copper red was accented with some of the original white, and just a few strategic blue lines. All in all, Enjolras was very proud of his futuristic revolutionary get-up.

It seemed everyone else was equally excited by his costume. Enjolras turned around and saw Joly and Bossuet trying to stealthily follow him through the apartment. Joly and Bossuet were not naturally very sneaky people, and their excitement combined with high levels of alcohol made it worse. Even when Enjolras wasn’t looking over his shoulder, he could hear them giggling. He was almost in the next room when someone yanked him to the side.

“What the- oh, hi, Bahorel,” Enjolras rubbed his arm ruefully.

“Are you for serious?” Bahorel said. He was looking at Enjolras like this was the most important question he had ever asked in his life.

“About?”

Bahorel made flailing hand gestures towards Enjolras’s costume.

“Yes,” Enjolras said. He wasn’t sure what else he could say.

“ _Fuck_!” Bahorel wailed. “I owe Combeferre like $50. Excuse me.”

Enjolras stared after him. Had they made bets that he would come in some period costume? He shrugged it off. Musichetta had joined her boyfriends, and was staring at Enjolras too.

“About damn time!” she said.

Really, his costume choice hadn’t been a big deal until everyone started to make it one. He went into the kitchen to try and escape from everyone and try and find some sanity. Unfortunately, since the first person he ran into in the kitchen was Jehan, that was unlikely.

“Ohhhmygod,” Jehan covered his mouth.

“Seriously, what is going on?”

Jehan’s face broke into a grin. “Like you don’t know.”

“I really don’t.”

“Playing coy,” Jehan nodded sagely. “Well, I must say, this is a creative way to announce your new relationship.”

“My what?”

“Damnit!” Eponine had just come in the kitchen to grab another beer. She took one look at Enjolras, then stormed out. “Feuilly. We have to pay Combeferre.”

“ _Fuck_!”

Combeferre. That was the answer. Enjolras would find Combeferre, and Combeferre would explain everything and make the world make sense again. He extricated himself from Jehan, who was still chattering away excitedly, and slipped out to the patio, where he guessed Combeferre would be.

Sure enough, Combeferre was seated out on the patio with Courfeyrac, and Grantaire of all people. And Grantaire was wearing the same basic suit as Enjolras, except he had painted his suit metallic green with black and white accents. Courfeyrac and Combeferre spotted him at the same time, and had exact opposite reactions. Courfeyrac gave a loud squawk and fell off the railing he had been perched on. Combeferre just nodded quietly to himself.

“Nice costume,” Grantaire said, toasting Enjolras.

“It explains why people have been shoving money at me all night,” Combeferre said.

“How?” Enjolras asked.

“You two are dressed like Jaeger pilots!” Courfeyrac said, struggling to return to his seat.

Enjolras stared at him. “Like what?”

He thought his suit had been a generic space suit.

“Jaeger pilots,” Courfeyrac repeated, like that was supposed to mean something.

“From  _Pacific Rim_ ,” Combeferre said. “The Jaeger pilots fought the Kaiju.”

If Combeferre thought that would enlighten Enjolras, he was very, very wrong.

“You know, if you’re drift compatible with someone, you can pilot a Jaeger? And you wear matching uniforms with your co-pilot. It was honestly a stroke of genius for you two to buy the same suit and then personalize them. So you’re clearly co-pilots but your costumes also reflect your personalities,” Courfeyrac said, nodding wisely.

Enjolras didn’t know how to say  _I bought this and decorated it to be a future revolutionary in the hopes of annoying you_. So he held his tongue. Grantaire on the other hand, let out a chuckle that was almost bitter.

“Wrong, I’m afraid. I was supposed to be character from an original video game Feuilly and I are designing.”

“You can’t be that,” Courfeyrac said, exasperated. “No one will know what that is!”

“I wanted to do details for our character design, and thought buying a life-size suit and decorating it might help. So forgive me if after that I didn’t have time to dedicate to getting another costume after all that,” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes.

“It looks great,” Enjolras said, admiring the detailing. He was always impressed by Grantaire’s artistic abilities.

“It does,” Courfeyrac conceded. “But that means I have to create a whole other category for the costume contest for characters from an original story-”

“What costume contest?” Combeferre asked sharply.

“And that means I’ll have to find another song to play during your modeling portion of your new category-”

“What modeling portion?”

“And I’ll have to find another backdrop to squeeze in for the original character photoshoot.”

“You didn’t say anything about photoshoots,” Combeferre said flatly.

Courfeyrac blinked at him innocently. “Didn’t I?”

“We aren’t doing another costume contest. You make them too complicated.”

“Grantaire is the one who made it complicated by being an original character!”

Enjolras sighed. “Well, I’m an original character too. Would it make it easier for you if Grantaire and I were just Jaeger pilots?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Combeferre hissed.

Courfeyrac beamed. “Yes. Thank you, Enjolras. Just for that, I’ll let you guys go first for the talent portion of the contest.”

He kissed Enjolras on the cheek before hurrying inside. Combeferre was right on his feet. “We seriously need to talk about your costume contest plans.”

Grantaire fidgeted. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know how seriously Courfeyrac takes his costume contests. I don’t know  _why_ he takes them so seriously, but he does.”

“You still don’t know what a Jaeger pilot is, do you?”

“No idea.”

That earned Enjolras a low chuckle from Grantaire, who had clearly expected that much. “You don’t want to be my co-pilot.”

“Why not?”

“Well…pilots have to be drift compatible.”

Enjolras let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re going to have to explain a little more than that.”

“It means that we’re really connected and in sync,” Grantaire said, turning slightly red. “And I didn’t think that-”

“You don’t want to be drift compatible with me?” Enjolras felt strangely disappointed.

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just thought you wouldn’t think we are.”

“Oh. Well,” Enjolras hadn’t been expecting that response. “You’re my friend. Of course we can be drift compatible.”

He reached over and took Grantaire’s hand. Grantaire sputtered.

“What are you doing?”

“You said we had to be in sync, so I thought that meant we should hold hands.”

“No, that’s not necess-”

A bright light went off. Grantaire and Enjolras looked at the door, where Marius stood next to Cosette, who had her phone held out in front of her. When she saw the victims of her ambush photoshoot look her way, she shoved her phone into Marius’s hands.

“Marius! Please, give them some privacy,” she said.

Marius looked bewildered by this turn of events. “I’m sorry?” he said to Grantaire and Enjolras.

Cosette kissed Marius on the cheek, giggling, before tugging him back inside. It was only when Grantaire tugged his hand loose that Enjolras realized he had still been holding it.

 “So why do the Jagger pilots wear these suits?”

“Jaeger pilots, and to fight the Kaiju.”

Enjolras scrunched up his nose in confusion. Grantaire laughed, and booped his nose. Enjolras startled.

“Sorry,” Grantaire muttered, looking away.

“What’s a Kaiju?” Enjolras asked.

“You should probably just watch the movie,” Grantaire said, looking at Enjolras again. There was something carefully controlled about his expression.

“Probably,” Enjolras sighed.

“The talent show is about to start!” Courfeyrac shouted from inside.

“Let’s win this thing,” Enjolras said.

“We need to do something about your competitive streak. It’s slightly ridiculous,” Grantaire grinned.

 “You won’t hate it so much when we win,” Enjolras said.

“I don’t hate it so much now,” Grantaire said. He turned pink, then hurried inside.

When Enjolras joined him, their friends were already seated in the living room, facing a make-shift stage, where Courfeyrac stood with a wireless microphone. Enjorlas was a little impressed; the year before he had just used a hairbrush.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the last contestants!” Courfeyrac said with a flourish. He turned to Enjolras and Grantaire. “And don’t think just because I’m so happy you two are finally doing this that I’m going to play favorites.”

Enjolras wrinkled his brow, confused. He hadn’t realized Courfeyrac had wanted him and Grantaire to coordinate costumes for so long. If he had known, he would have just called Grantaire up and asked about the costumes instead of buying the space suit. He turned to Grantaire to ask if he knew anything about it, but to his surprise, Grantaire was blushing again.

“No, we’re not-”

“First up, last year’s defending champion: Jehan!” Courfeyrac interrupted, either not hearing, or not caring about Grantaire’s protests.

The modelling portion, in which Courfeyrac made them strut down a make-shift catwalk was predictably awful. As was the photoshoot. And _especially_ the talent portion. But Enjolras found, to his surprise, they were slightly less horrible with Grantaire a fixture at his side. In fact, if he thought about it, a lot of things were less horrible when Grantaire was around. Grantaire seemed to make things better somehow. He pondered that fact as they waited around the living room while Courfeyrac tallied their scores in a complex process no one but him really understood. Everyone had broken off into little groups as they waited.

(“It’s been _half an hour,_ Courfeyrac.”

“I know, Combeferre, but the pop quiz portion of the contest is particularly difficult.”

“You are never allowed to host Halloween again.”)

 Grantaire stood alone in a corner, sipping beer. Enjolras decided to do something about that.

“You know, I’m curious about Jaeger pilots now,” Enjolras said. “Maybe we could have a movie night.”

“Sure,” Grantaire said. “I’ll send out a text later and see when everyone’s available.”

“I mean,” Enjolras took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Maybe you and I could have a movie night. Just the two of us.”

Grantaire’s eyes grew very large. “You mean…like a date.”

‘Date’ wasn’t the word Enjolras had in mind, but now that Grantaire put it out there, Enjolras realized it was the perfect word to describe what he wanted.

“If you’re amenable,” Enjolras said, suddenly concerned that the feeling he had felt between them was one-sided.

“I am more than amenable,” Grantaire breathed.

Enjolras grinned. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Their kiss was soft and chaste. It didn’t have time to progress to anything more, because almost as soon as their lips touched, their friends began cheering. And in Bahorel’s case, jeering.

“No!” Bahorel said. “I already lost a shitton of money to Combeferre because of the bet. You can’t kiss as a last minute ploy to get points in the costume contest.”

“What bet?”

Feuilly jammed his elbow in Bahorel’s ribs. “Nothing.”

“Alright!” Courfeyrac said, holding up a truly awful, glittery trophy he had seemingly whipped up from out of nowhere. “Time for the awards! In third place, Feuilly, for his Fan-Fan Costume. Extra points for creativity. Also, he got the second highest scores for staying in character the entire time.”

Feuilly stepped forward to claim a smaller trophy, dressed in a can-can dress that was made entirely out of fans.

“In second place, one of our two teams, Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet, as Maria, Manolo, and Joaquin from _The_ _Book of Life._ Their costumes were hand-made by the lovely Ms. Musichetta herself.”

Courfeyrac paused dramatically. “And the coveted prize. The winners of this year’s costume contest-”

“We all know who it is,” Combeferre muttered.

“Drumroll-” The Amis obliged Courfeyrac. “Enjolras and Grantaire! Come forward and claim your prize.”

They turned to look at each other. Enjolras leaned forward and kissed Grantaire instead. Kissing Grantaire felt better than getting any trophy. And from the way Grantaire was kissing him, he probably felt the same way. Which shouldn’t have been surprising. After all, they were drift compatible.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I got a little carried away. I think I could have written a whole fic on Courfeyrac's ideas for a costume contest alone. 
> 
> Happy early Halloween!


End file.
